Arctic
by Red Squirrel Writer
Summary: I love mysteries. The problem is now I'm living one. It started somewhere in Lylat that everyone wants to forget about. There's a lot of crazy people involved. I don't know what they want, or if I should care. I only have one thing to fight for. Survival.
1. Chapter 1

_My head hurts._

That's the first thing I noticed when I woke up. It wasn't a splitting headache, which I thought was a little odd. It was more of a dull knocking at the back of my mind, like some vagary of imagination wanted to be heard, and was doing its best to break out. I found that my neck was still mobile, and twisted my head about, trying to get my eyes open. That was harder than I thought, as my immediate surroundings were a complete and utter blur. I could feel something soft and warm on my cheek. It felt like cloth. A pillow, maybe. I kept turning my head until I was looking up… at least, I thought it was up. Suddenly, my vision was enveloped by something glaring and white. I was staring directly into the ceiling light, and the pain of that sudden flash ate right into my skull. I shut my eyes again and twisted my head away; as my vision became clearer, I could still see the light through my eyelids. What kind of oddball kept their lights on so high?

Well, probably me, since I was in here.

I think I fell asleep after that.

When I woke up again, it wasn't nearly so bright. The light had been dimmed down to nearly nothing, and my vision was much clearer. My headache had somehow gotten worse. Instead of the niggling, easily ignored rap, it was now a pulsating thud. I didn't want to lift my head up, since that would make things worse, but I had to know where I was. Everything was a blank. I knew that I was _there, _but I had absolutely no clue where 'there' was, or even why I might be 'there' in the first place. I couldn't remember anything of the previous night. Or any other night for that matter, for an appreciable amount of time on back. My mind felt like jelly, and all my thoughts were just flailing aimlessly about, struggling to find air, purchase, anything.

As for me, I was just one poor, confused soul.

_What the hell is going on?_

I moved my right arm under my body until I could lever myself up with my elbow. I had been right before; my head complained loudly at the sudden movement, and I was overcome with dizziness. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed (or shelf, or whatever I had been sleeping on,) I lifted my hands and cradled my face in them, shutting my eyes as tight as I could. Stars were exploding in the back of my skull. How had I ended up here? And what was wrong with my head? The pain, it had gotten worse, like a spike trying to wedge itself between my brain's lobes…

I sat there for a long time, gritting my teeth and trying to either wait for the moment to pass, or until I got acclimated and could move around without being bothered. I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, feeling the cold metal of the floor against my bare feet.

When I finally lifted my head once again, I found my room lit by a soft blue glow coming from the far wall, much better than the harsh white of before.

It was a very plain room. Just four walls, plain, metal, and smooth. I had been sleeping on an actual bed, but it was more just a panel that stuck out of the wall and had a mattress and a pillow. I rubbed my eyes and stood up, changing my view of the place by quite a bit. It was smaller than I had first thought, and the walls were purely featureless, not just bland. Just a few lines from the paneling marked them. It was then I noticed the strangest thing about my room. The blue glow wasn't just coming from the wall… it _was _the wall! There was some kind of opaque blue-ish field making up the front of my room.

I strode forward and immediately drove a finger into it. There was an angry spark, and I drew back with a hiss of pain, feeling my headache spike for a moment as an electric current slashed through me. The blue light was some kind force field with no way to get through it. There was a hallway beyond it, with other rooms looking much like mine, but no active blue fields. Mine was the only one. I was trapped. I was alone. I came to a horrifying realization.

This wasn't a room. It was a _cell._

I opened my mouth to scream.

"Hey!" I said, and my voice sounded unusually soft and hoarse for how loud I was trying to be.

"Hey! Is anyone out there? What the hell's going on here? You can't keep me in here! Hey! _Hey!"_

I banged on the blue wall and was awarded with a forceful shock that threw my arm back. Cradling the injured limb, I backed off and shouted a wordless noise. They couldn't just lock me up in here! Where was I? What was this? I didn't understand a thing, except that I was alone, and growing nervous, perhaps even frightened. What had they done to me? Who was 'they?' Why had they done this?

_Who am _I, _if I deserved this?_

I felt an inexplicable panic grip me and turned away, kicking the walls as the crushing reality of my situation began to close in. To make matters worse, that manifested itself as mad visions of the walls themselves growing smaller, threatening to box me in. I closed my eyes against the horrifying hallucination and shivered as I hugged myself, trying to find any kind of solace. Possibilities flew through my head as to why I was here. I was deranged and needed to be locked up. I had committed murder in a drunken rage. I was a prisoner of a psychopath who was holding me for his sick games. I was being held for torture by an enemy army, and any minute they'd come in and stick me with sharp things and burn my flesh away. Whatever the reason, I was a prisoner, stuck in a room, imprisoned for a crime I didn't know I committed, with no way to improve my situation. I was feeling claustrophobic. I was angry. I was truly scared. I was _alone._

"Help!" I shouted ineffectually at the walls. "Someone! Help me! Anyone? Come on! There has to be _someone!"_

I kicked the walls again in sheer frustration, paced, shouted at the tops of my lungs, grabbed my ears and pulled. All the while that headache continued to get more and more aggravated as I carried on. I didn't care. I kept screaming, kept pounding, kept walking, kept moving, obsessed with doing something, even if it was to no avail. I was struck by a real feeling of helplessness, something that I'm sure I wasn't used to, because it terrified and annoyed me.

Eventually, something snapped. My headache spiked, and my vision went red. I dropped back onto the bed and resumed the position I had found myself in, lying down, helpless. I covered my face with my hands and groaned aloud.

"What's going _on?"_ I said into my fur. My tail was uncomfortable squashed beneath me, but I didn't care. My headache was paralyzing. I just wanted to lie still and wait for it to go away.

I don't know how long I was there, waiting, in agonizing pain as my brain turned red-hot and my arms melted into useless dead weights. It must have been a long time, because when it finally all passed back into ignominy, the light was still dim, but brighter than it had been. Kind of like the rising or setting sun, I thought crazily. I judged that meant a day of sorts had passed, and I was into the evening of my second day of captivity. My throat was incredibly dry and my stomach was completely empty, so it had to have been quite a long while since I had woken up. I wondered for a moment how long I had been here. Obviously not that long. I didn't feel malnourished or underfed; I was still strong and somewhat healthy, except for this headache. Yes. I couldn't have been in here for more than twelve hours. I didn't care if I was wrong. Did it really matter, anyway, if I was stuck in here?

Time doesn't really have meaning when someone is locked up. It just becomes a mindless, formless blob that jiggles every so often, showing no interest, only a maddening ambivalence. Does it pass? Does it go backward? Does it stand still? Time isn't linear when your senses are gone. It just… roils and writhes in the same spot, over and over again.

I only had the emptiness of my stomach and the parched skin of my throat to tell me that my time, whatever its current mood, was running out.

To pass that meager amount of time, I decided that screaming myself voiceless and shocking myself to death wouldn't help anyone, least of all me. So I started to play games. I drew imaginary tic-tac-toe lines in the floor and played myself, and won every time. I asked myself twenty questions. I thought of the most complicated words I knew and tried to give myself good definitions. I even thought up imaginary war games and played different strategies off each other.

I think I actually managed to lose once.

In any case, more time went by. Maybe a whole day, which I hoped for. Or maybe just a few hours, which would have been maddening. All I knew was that I was still hungry. Thinking of escape to grab a bite to eat was ridiculous and pointless. I had no idea how to get past the field, my pant pockets (of which there were only four) were all empty, and no convenient ventilation shafts were in sight to shimmy into. I was just some ordinary schmuck.

"Hey, screw," I said to the empty hall, trying to fight back the rising panic in my chest. My voice echoed eerily with no reply forthcoming. "Don't I get a phone call? Maybe… like a cup of water?"

More echoes.

Oh, no. Was that just the echo of my voice, or… something else?

Ambiguous night terrors floated up. I bashed them over the head and bottled them up again before they could surface.

The light had brightened up again considerably when the rumbles came.

I felt them more than heard them. They came through the floor. I had been lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and blinking a lot because of the bright light, and was shocked into action. If you can call hysterical flailing and shouting action.

I jumped up and rested against the wall, feeling the vibrations travel under my feet, up through the walls, and into the ceiling. Was it some kind of electrical current? An explosion? Was there some kind of _creature _living in the damn _walls?_

Wrong thought to think. I panicked again and tried to bang on my force field, which resisted my efforts admirably, considering the situation. It was certainly a very stalwart and responsible force field.

And how I hated it.

More rumbles came, stronger this time, and I sat down on the bed, sniffling like a baby. I was well and truly terrified now. Helpless, trapped, caged, and with who knew what going on outside. I hoped to God there even _was _an outside to escape to. The entire universe could have ended outside my own little hallway and I'd never be privy to it. I grabbed my tail and hugged it like a child would, feeling no shame. I was _scared. _I even started to think of mother, her gentle eyes, her hands, those wonderful hands that had never been raised in anger.

I mean, those _were _the right memories of mother, right?

And then the lights started flickering. All the memories of mother I owned couldn't have helped then. I squeezed my eyes shut and rocked back and forth on the bed.

_Please, please, don't let them go out!_

I shut my eyes against the terrifying things outside that were disturbing the monotony of my tiny world, which I suddenly came to value and cherish, even if it was only a few hours (days?) old. It was all I had to latch on to at the moment. The thought of being trapped in the dark here was more than I could stand. One of the few things I did come to realize about myself was that the dark terrified me. All I'd have left would be that force field, and if that gave out…

Well, if that gave out, I'd be free. But I'd also be vulnerable against whatever was responsible for this.

It had to happen. Another rumble, the strongest yet, and the lights died. The force field shut down abruptly. Everything had changed in an instant.

The door was open. I was free. But I was also vulnerable.

I sat, staring at the open doorway. At the pitch black hall outside. Thinking of the horrid things that might be waiting for me out there.

Somehow, seeing that field gone was even worse than having it there in the first place. Being contained and ignorant was frustrating, but suddenly it felt so much _safer,_ much more sure than the outside. But I had no choice. I could not stay here. I had to know. I had to know.

First one foot, down on the ground. That's it. Now the other. Now stand up. Stand up!

I took a shaky step towards freedom, feeling my way through the inky blackness. The air was colder than I remembered waking up.

I was almost there. I could feel it. Anticipation welled up in my chest. This was it! I was going to be free! I was almost outside. My hands chilled as they felt their way to where the force field would be…

For a horrifying instant, I thought the thing would snap back to life and chop my arms off. Nothing of the sort happened. My arms passed through the portal, out into the hall. I felt a grin creeping up onto my muzzle. This was it! I was going to take the first steps out!

The lights came on with a suddenness that nearly gave me a heart attack. I yelped pitifully and stumbled back until I fell onto my bed, clutching my chest, staring at the doorway, panting uncontrollably. No force field flickered back to life. The way was still open.

But for how long? A swift and understandable hysteria grabbed me and shoved me forward. _Out now!_ It screamed.

OUT!

I lunged forward and collapsed into the hall with an exhausted sob. I suddenly felt as though I had traversed some kind of booby-trap laden temple and found myself finally in safety.

I took a few deep breaths and stood up, supporting myself on the wall. Just as I expected, the hallway was blank and stale. I was facing the end that ran into a blank wall. A simple twist of my head revealed the exit at the other end. It would be a simple matter of hurrying towards it, going through, and exploring my new existence. I turned away from it, still trying to catch my breath, compose myself, and get ready for the inevitable plunge. Should I go now? Wait for rescue?

Apparently the universe didn't have time to wait, so it made my choice for me.

"Hey!" I heard a voice say from the exit. "Hey, you! You all right? You okay? Hey, I was told to come get you. You got any idea what's going on?"

Oh, perfect. My savior knew less than I did. Thank you, universe, you have a nice way of making the worst out of a potentially good situation.

I turned around with a weary expression, one that didn't deter the glimmering curiosity and wide-eyed anxiety of the canine at the end of the hallway.

My ordeal was only beginning.

--

A/N: Contrary to what this might imply, the main character is not suffering amnesia… or at least, they won't be for very long.

I know this is a short and rather bland beginning, but I just wanted to set the stage and the feel for this character and style of writing. I wanted to withhold character info to make things more streamlined and easy for me to write, and add a bit of compelling mystery (I hope). I want to make a more focused and spartan story with only a few characters and a static setting.

In fact, I'm going to bring this one step further. This main character will be mostly mine to shape, but I want your opinions still. Should this character have a name? A gender? A species? What should they be? Is this good that I've withheld so much? And who is this mystery canine? What's their name? Occupation? Bad-ass marine or simple janitor? Tell me what you think might be interesting. I might even incorporate it.

And rest assured, exposition will come in the next chapter, so you're not completely in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I like to read this story like I'm seeing things from the main character's eyes. Ever play a really good FPS? It's like that. Shout out to my first reviewers (for this story). Jyr, those are good ideas, and I had the idea of this character being a plain Jane (John?) from the start. I agree that I should use a unique species, so don't fear about that. Matsutzu, that's correct. I feel enough people write about Fox, and I almost feel... trapped when I write about main characters. After all, it's not them that follow my writing whims, I'm expected to characterize them a certain way. Bullhaze, you won't get much advancement, but I'm glad you're hooked.

I also just noticed that I'm basically writing my own survival horror game in this chapter.

--

"My name's Wade."

"Hello, Wade."

It wasn't the best way to hit things off between us, but we didn't exactly have a better way to do things. After all, both of us seemed to be in the same state of mind: confused, alert, and ready to hit something.

Wade, who had gotten a little too close for comfort, looked like an average station dock worker, dressed in an entirely bland orange jumpsuit. I figured that meant I was somewhere in space, which didn't really bother me. Even if I was on the ground, it would still just be 'somewhere.' The insignia above his nametag was weird. I didn't recognize it at all; it looked like a bronze sunburst with some unknown planet in the middle of it. His alarmingly ostentatious basset hound snout stuck out at me, distracting my eyes from his, which were big, brown, and tense. In one hand he held a simplistic radio, and on his shoulder a flashlight was clipped on. Rather low-tech for a deep-space operation, if this is what it was.

"So, Wade," I said, letting my arm slide off the wall and rolling my neck, "mind telling me just what the hell is going on here?"

"Well, I… it's hard to explain," he said, and his big brown eyes widened with self-conscious chagrin at his ignorance. I sighed and looked at the floor, scuffing my bare paws against the metal.

"Look," Wade said, trying to make up for his lack of explanation with impatience, "there's not a lot of time. We gotta get out of here. It isn't safe."

"Hold on… _what?"_ I demanded, raising my hands and cutting him off. "Not safe? Then why did you let me out? Where _are _we? And why was I locked up?!"

"Look, I don't know why you're here, okay?" Wade said, with a bit of a whine in his tone. He looked well and truly apologetic, hanging his head and shaking it, his jowls wobbling tremulously. "All I can say is that I was told to come here, and get you. And now we have to _go._ It's a long way back to the security center and things aren't gonna hold together for long!"

"Hold together?" I squawked, now practically terrified. "What is that supposed to mean? Was there some kind of explosion?"

"Come _on!"_

Wade waved, apparently taking my frustration for eagerness to get going. He started walking back down the hall.

"Hey! Hold on just a minute, will you?" I shouted after him, trying to sound more angry than scared, but Wade only turned his big brown eyes on me and shook his head. I growled and hurried after him.

"Wade, _wait-!"_

He opened the door and stepped through. I don't know what I was expecting on the other side. Certainly nothing as average and plain as the next gray room that greeted us. All that was in it was a large computer terminal in one corner with some lockers behind it that looked like they used to hold guns. I wished I had a gun.

"Where _are_ we?" I said, petulantly stamping my foot.

"Detention center. This is the control room for your cell block," Wade answered. I decided he was a bit of a slow person who couldn't handle too many thoughts criss-crossing through that thick head at once.

"_Why _are we in the detention center?" I said, trying to sound as annoyed as possible to get a straight answer. My headache was coming back, so most of my annoyance was genuine.

"Because you were here and I had to come get you," Wade answered patiently. I rolled my eyes and followed him in silence after that, rubbing my temples hard to try and stamp out the ache.

The main detention lobby, if that's what it could be called, was appropriately stark and unwelcoming. The room itself was large, but it didn't have much in it except for a few fake potted plants and circular desks where security officers would sit at their computers, staring at security monitors and dreaming of the next pay check and looking at the station's sparse store of pornography. Assuming there was one. Not that I would check, of course. Other doors led off to guard stations and other cell blocks. Checkpoints and security cameras protected each and every door. I turned back and saw that I had come from block C-13.

"Are there other levels to this center?" I asked.

"Yeah," Wade replied. "This is the third and top one, minimum security. The lift is somewhere around here. Don't need to use it though; you're the only one left."

"Left?" I whispered to myself.

Wade suddenly stopped at the door that led out of the detention block and raised the radio to his mouth.

"It was just like you said. We're gonna try and come back now." No answer from the other side.

"Who were you talking to?" I demanded, but Wade was already opening the large fortified door in front. It opened up to a wide multi-tiered stairway. I found it odd that the stairway would be pointing down at the door instead of leading out from it. Then it hit me. Of course as a detention center they were focused on containment. Anyone outside would want the high ground if the prisoners rioted and made it to the exit.

We headed up the stairs to the ground level, which was tall and long, stretching up to the exit. the view to the ceiling partially obstructed by a thin mezzanine stretching along both walls, themselves punctuated by other doors which led nowhere interesting that I could see. As we walked below its length I could see the mezzanine walkway led to another door atop the reinforced detention exit. Wade saw me staring and spoke.

"Guard quarters and the warden's office up there. I would check them for weapons, but they're all locked."

"Uhh…" was all I could think of. Weapons? Why would they need weapons?

"So," I asked as we reached the next sealed door, "this seems like pretty heavy security for- _holy shit!"_

Another strong rumble cascaded along the ground, actually causing the metal panels beneath me to vibrate. The already sparse lighting flickered and wavered, sending our shadows dancing along the dark walls. Wade looked up and around, definitely as frightened as me.

"It's coming apart," he remarked, mostly to himself. "The construction was never finished… pieces…"

"Hold on!" I shouted, but Wade was running now, heading for the exit with me close on his heels. He opened the door and leaped into the spacious, octagonal hallway outside. I deduced that some main corridors ran through whatever this place was, and we were in one of them. Wade seemed to have practically forgotten about me, but I charged headlong behind him. Down one open hall we passed, I saw in a blur something lumpy and scrunched in on itself, huddled against the wall. I think I caught sight of a helmet…

"Was that a-" I started, but didn't have time to finish. Wade was still moving, and I had to hurry to keep up. But despite his slow thinking, he was a fast runner, and was several paces ahead of me.

More rumbling.

"Wade! _Wait!"_ I shouted. The rumbling got stronger all of a sudden, and then the walls suddenly looked a lot less clean as we passed into a new section. There were overhangs and exposed wires as we kept going, and some places were missing wall panels and lights. It melted into a blur as I rushed to keep up with Wade.

"Where are we going?!" I shouted as the rumbling increased with intensity.

"We have to get back to the tram!" Wade shouted over his shoulder. He suddenly ducked down a side hallway, and I saw why. The way ahead was blocked off by construction work and big signs that said 'Do not pass!' I stopped for a moment to take this all in.

I was on an _unfinished _space station? That wasn't the most comforting of thoughts.

The corridor Wade had ducked into was even worse. It was a mess of half done maintenance and tools strewn all about. We were passing by a large area of exposed pipelines that went who knew where, and once or twice I had to vault over one or two of them, which was exceedingly uncomfortable without some kind of heavy work boots. I took a moment to reflect on the insanity of my situation.

Barely half an hour ago I had woken up without memory in a jail cell on what appeared to be an under-construction space station. And now I was running for my life from some unseen threat, trailing a canine named Wade who was far too mysterious for his own good.

As things usually do in this kind of situation, they suddenly got worse before I could finish thinking.

A tremor raced up the floor, leaped into the wall, followed the pipes, and exited out a door Wade passed by.

Exited in this case meant blasted out in a fiery explosion. I could only hear a sharp bang before it all turned into a high pitched whine.

The sheer force of the blast wave overtook my forward momentum and hurled me backwards, landing hard on some exposed piping. Incredible heat washed over me, scalding the skin under my fur and singing all my exposed bits. But I didn't have time to notice the pain. When the back of my head hit the pipe, I was momentarily blinded by the stunning flash that covered my sight. Everything felt like it was spinning. I didn't know if I was up and staggering around, or just laying there on the ground lolling my head about. There was another violent shake, and then came a great clamor, a cacophony of crashes and bangs that rang through my ears. I felt it in my very bones.

My headache then swamped all rational thought as I lay there, my chest heaving, my fur and clothes smoking.

I blacked out.

--

Coming to, I realized that I hadn't been moved from my last position, sprawled on my back in the hallway. My forearms stung, my brain felt like it was rolling around like a pinball inside my skull, and there was heat all around me. I took in a deep breath and got my lungs full of scorched air and smoke. The suffocating surprise made my muscles clench and my brain kick into overdrive. I was stricken by a heaving fit of coughs that drained most of my energy and made me feel nauseous. For some reason I noticed my empty stomach more than anything else as I turned over on my hands and knees.

Crawl, my body said. Get away from the smoke and flames. Crawl.

I put one arm forward, dragged my left knee across the ground, and twisted my body, trying to throw myself into motion. My headache nearly overwhelmed me. I saw red with every twitch and pain with my flick of my eyes as they tried to make sense of my surroundings. What a weird thing to say, that I could see pain. But I did. It was black and splotchy and covered my senses like a damp blanket, smothering my nerves.

Somehow I kept going until the heat was well behind me, and collapsed. Before I blacked out again I thought I heard someone yelling.

All I could think about was how much my head hurt.

--

_Someone's with their mother. It might be me. They're ready for a trip, bags packed, clothes pressed and neat. Mother's crying. Her tears are beautiful like watching a rain storm and make me want to cry too. But the other one doesn't cry. They don't know what to say. Mother speaks._

"_It's such a long way…"_

_Her tears become crystals. Sharp, malevolent crystals. They tear my flesh as they fall, slashing the world apart. I can't move as they cut me, distorting my vision of mother and child. They're so peaceful together, so homely._

_I can't let this go._

Yes, you will.

_My blood gushes out in rivers, and the crystals drag across the memory, ripping it to pieces, taking me apart. Everything is full of gashes spitting bile. Mother is lost in a sea of red._

_Red is all I can see now._

--

I woke up still on my stomach. The front of my body, blackened to a comic degree, was chilled by the cold metal, contrasting heavily with the heat on my legs and feet.

My eyes were focused again, and I turned back to see what had happened.

The hallway had collapsed.

The explosion had torn a huge gash in the ceiling and walls, sending pipes and jagged metal crashing into a ridiculous tangle. Most of it was on fire for some unfathomable reason. A broken pipe was gushing flames in a poor parody of a dragon, eliminating any possibility of trying to clear the wreckage when the flames on the wreck died away.

Wade was nowhere to be seen.

I stumbled forward as far as I dared, holding my arms up against the fire.

"Wade?" I called. "Wade! You there?"

No answer. He must have thought I'd died in the explosion and gone on. Or maybe _he_ was dead.

"Damn it," I said sharply, and turned away. Wherever he was leading me was now a moot point. Cut off and alone again, I had to fend for myself.

For some reason, that hurt me more than I thought it would. I suddenly wished Wade was here again, with his big brown eyes and giant basset nose. It would have been better than the nasty, blank walls that would be my company from now on until I could find a way around.

"Okay… okay, stay calm," I whispered to myself. What would someone who was far better equipped than me do in this situation?

That was something that had bothered me, to be honest. I had survived that explosion not through skill, or some sixth sense. Just luck. I had been too slow and distracted to be right behind Wade. If I had just been a few steps closer, I'd have been incinerated. A few steps closer than that, and I'd have been paste against the far wall. I was going to need a lot more than luck to get out of this alive. From what I could figure as I paced back and forth was that this place, whatever it was, was falling to pieces. Construction areas would just be dangerous to walk through. I'd need a change of clothes for one thing. Something better than the outfit I was wearing, which was just a plain white shirt and thick working pants made of synthetic material. It wouldn't last very long if there was explosions and fires running amok. How many people survive this kind of situation because they just got plain lucky? I knew I had just been lucky once. It was likely not to happen again, and a humbling thought it was.

Fortunately I was made of sterner stuff than that. If one thing drove me right now, it was the desire to get out of this place alive. Answers could come later. The first thing I had to do was ensure that I was still in one piece when I made it to the end.

I decided to backtrack to the detention center and try to find some kind of directory. It would be stupid for an entire space station to not have public maps, right?

Well, apparently it was a very stupid space station. It had no maps that I could see, or at least access from the various computer terminals, most of which reacted badly to my touch, were blank, or were locked out.

I was lost again, even though I was going in a straight line down the hallway Wade had led me down. Fortunately there hadn't been any big twists or turns. I felt like I was in another cell, just an exceptionally large one. Almost all the doors I passed were either locked or didn't lead anywhere except another big hallway.

And then I came across the body.

It was the same shape I had seen running with Wade. I had missed most of the details in my manic, headlong flight, but I could see the poor guy had taken a long time to die. A trail of blood led past him on into the hallway he had come down.

Of course, this doesn't give justice to how absolutely, positively, ready-to-soil-my-pants terrified I was. I was overcome with a sick nausea and my headache began trying to spike again. The moment my brain properly registered what I was seeing, I froze up. There was a body, right there. I had never seen a body before, never really prepared for death. Since I was still young, I-

How old was I?

Somewhere in my late twenties, early thirties, I was guessing, from the way my body looked and felt. Still fit enough to do what it took to leave here. I was fit (mostly). I was strong. I could take this.

Thinking all that didn't stop the trembling in my fingers, the coldness in my bones, as I approached the dead simian before me. My eyes were so wide a sniper could have pegged me at three hundred yards by them. I didn't remember actually walking to the body; I was just suddenly in front of it. I didn't really kneel in front of the corpse either. I just dropped clumsily onto my knees, clenching my jaw to keep my teeth chattering.

The primate had been wearing a helmet. It was a couple feet away. The name on the front read 'Carmichael.' He had on some kind of armored suit that made him look like a former guard or military man.

I gulped at what I was thinking in the back of my mind. It was gross, it was disturbing, it was downright _wrong._

But, well, he was dead, right? He wouldn't care if someone rifled through his belongings… seeing as they didn't belong to him anymore. There might even be something useful.

I couldn't even believe what I was _thinking!_

But this wasn't a funeral; this place had no ceremony or etiquette about it. It was just a big tomb for this dead monkey. A place of fire and smoke and sweat, and desperate little me. I didn't have much choice, after vowing to do whatever it took to get out of here. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. And then I just dove right in.

I uncurled the body with a disgusted moan, seeing the front of his uniform was caked in dry blood. He couldn't have been dead for more than a day or two (the smell, really, wasn't that pungent yet, but my sensitive nose picked it up just the same). He had some kind of injury in his stomach. Bad burns and a puncture right into the gut. Probably a laser blast, but I preferred to believe it was a mishap with this station that was falling apart. The thought of someone else running around with a gun, and willing to use it on top of that, was almost too frightening to bear. Maybe that's where Carmichael's gun had gone. He had died very slowly and painfully after being shot, dragged himself all the way up this hall, probably crying for his mother like I had, and-

_Stop it._

I had to focus on what was useful here. I patted down his pockets and discovered, of all things, an unopened candy bar. Trying to ignore the blood on my fingers I tore open the package and bit into it.

Dark chocolate.

I _hated _dark chocolate. But it was something, at least, better than the feel of dry phlegm in my mouth.

"Sorry Carmichael," I said with a full, sticky mouth. "But I need this more than you do."

Talking to corpses. I really was starting to crack. The scariest part was his eyes. I didn't remember much, but I did know that death was often described as a light going out. His eyes just looked… dead. Not even snuffed. Just glass-like and empty, like a house with all its furniture gone. It was not at all poetic, just rather sad and dull. Actually, it reminded me of a dead fish I had once seen in a market. I didn't remember which market, unfortunately. I would have loved to remember anything at that point.

I found a pulse charge for a rifle I didn't have, pants that might have fit me but were soiled from when the guy's bowels had loosened, and a flak vest that was bloody and torn open in the spots I would have needed it to protect me the most. I also found a couple card keys, which I stuffed into one of my four pockets. Then an emergency flare. Into the pocket it went. Guys like him should have had weapons and radios, right? But I didn't find anything else, other than that dumb chocolate bar. I did find the _cord _to his radio, but it was torn and useless.

Maybe the helmet?

Fortunately this wasn't some special military detachment, just a security guard, and the name was only taped onto the helmet. I tore it off and replaced it gently on the simian's shoulder. It was the least I could do to give his body a name in case someone else found it. The helmet was still functional (as in it didn't have holes), and surprisingly, fit my head nicely. I strapped it on, gave it a whack, and very abruptly, a holographic HUD flickered into existence in front of my face. But it was full of error messages. Perhaps it relied on some network that was down right now. I wondered how this thing worked and glanced around at it. Everything was distorted and full of errors, but there was one option that still seemed functional: personal settings. More specifically, the lights on either side of the helmet. I brought a claw up and tapped it. They were set to read the ambient lighting and judge when I would need them on.

_Very _handy.

Pleased that I hadn't come away too empty handed, I headed back to the detention center, feeling a little more daring now that falling pipes wouldn't hurt my head anymore. It probably made me look a little dashing, too.

The door, unlocked by Wade previously, opened at my arrival. Knowing that the cells would be empty and useless, I opted for the doors on the mezzanine. There were guard quarters and the warden's office up there. I might find a map, or food. Maybe Carmichael's locker would have a couple more things to spare.

I tried both card keys on the door to the guard quarters and offices. One worked after several successful swipes. More luck. The other didn't, so I kept it for later. It was green and had the number '73' on it, whatever that meant.

I had expected the guard quarters to be busy with guys holed up during whatever disaster befell this place, but it too was empty. I felt sincerely disturbed by that.

So far, Wade had been the only other living being I had encountered in this place. Either everyone else had evacuated somewhere, or they were as dead as Carmichael. Or maybe something worse.

_Stop it._

I found that the door that unlocked the one that led in here worked for most of the ones inside. Almost all the doors I unlocked were some office with rather useless equipment in them, and computers that either didn't work or were locked by some password.

The warden's office was, unsurprisingly, locked, guarded by a voice-coded box and a numbered panel. On to the guard quarters. There were a lot of rooms, but only Carmichael's opened to me, and I comforted myself with the notion that I wouldn't have time to search them all anyway. I found myself in a sparse bunk room which was full of personal effects, but nothing of use or interest to me. On one of the bunks, however, was a PDA.

I hesitated. Someone must have left it there in a hurry. Were its batteries still working? If so, that would probably be even more alarming. It meant whatever had rushed them out of here had done so not too long ago.

It _wasn't _working, but I did find a wall outlet to plug it into. The time and date as it came on read thus:

10:17 PM, September 13th, 3342

But a thought struck me. The PDA had run out of batteries. Was this just the time and date when it ran out? How long had it been here? Longer than Carmichael? When had _he _gotten here?

The owner's e-mails and private files were locked off by a password. The only thing left was public announcements, none of them very interesting except the last. The last one was dated three days prior to the date shown on screen, and a full week after the one before it.

--

_ATTN: This is a Public Service Announcement! Mandatory reading!_

_SUBJ: Maintenance Difficulties_

_From the office of Jackson Pollock, Station Director:_

_It has come to our attention that the technical difficulties this outpost has been suffering have caused numerous incidents of unrest and anxiety. You, the staff, are to be commended for remaining as calm as you have for the past week. Your fears have not gone unnoticed. I know it was a hasty decision to begin work here while construction was ongoing, but rest assured, nothing that has happened so far is out of the ordinary in the building of a facility like this. The recent technical difficulties we have been experiencing are being investigated by the finest crew we have available, and nothing out of the ordinary has been discovered. These are merely standard hiccups in the operation of a deep space facility. Suspicions of sabotage and incompetence are baseless and out of line. There is nothing here to worry about except not meeting our deadlines. Please, remain calm, keep faithful, and support one another. These troubles will be over soon._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Jackson Pollock_

--

I dropped the PDA, my hands feeling sweaty.

Deep space facility? Had I read that right? I was in _deep space?_

I sat down on the bunk and stared at the floor. Deep space. But deep space where? Was I in Lylat? Outside of it? Were we just sitting on the borders?

"Damn it," I whispered. This didn't help at all. I had to get somewhere else and fast, maybe find that tram that Wade had talked about. I had to get _out _of here. Deep space was not an option. I was going _home,_ wherever that was. I grabbed up the PDA again and tried to find something else of use.

Something was there that cheered me considerably. A map. A full blown map of this entire level, which I could see was huge. It was so big that a holographic display had to come up from the screen. I began tapping madly, trying to find the nearest tram or lift or anything. There were several lifts, but the PDA indicated they were all out of order, and I wasn't about to go crawling around in dark elevator shafts like some action hero. The tram was still operational… at least, that's what the PDA said. Maybe it was out of date. In any case, the tram's nearest available stop was far removed from me, at least half the section over, and again I considered it was to prevent an easy breakout by the prisoners.

_Prisoners like me,_ I thought ruefully. Why was I here? Had I been one of the staff, thrown into a cell for a minor infraction, or just a regular prisoner, kept for extraordinary or nefarious purposes?

I also wondered if I wanted to know the answer to that. I shook my head and remembered my original goal. Escape first, answers later.

The PDA map didn't show where the track led past the edge of the map except a section number: B-3. This place must be _huge, _practically a small city. Then again it was a deep space facility. People would need big if they didn't want to go insane.

I stood up and headed for the door, pocketing the PDA. The map would come in handy later, and there should be enough battery charge to last as long as I didn't use it too often. There was some more searching to do.

Neither the armory nor the requisition areas worked. The armory just didn't work, and Carmichael's locker was empty. Seeing a couple other open and empty ones I figured when the guards left they took everything of material interest or use, so there was nothing left for me here.

But first things first. I had spied a bathroom, and a water fountain. I got my fill of water and decided to answer a call of nature. This was so ridiculously against regular expectations of what people might do in my situation I had to laugh the entire time. Who exactly but me would have even cared about the bathroom at a time like this? It was an extraordinarily normal thing to do in such a crazy situation, and it made me feel much better. I had taken control of this maddening station for a moment of my time and decided to do something totally of my will. It was a wonderful feeling that at least this floating tomb couldn't keep me from a bathroom, which only made me laugh harder. People take the mundane far too much for granted, I decided. Whenever something disastrous like this came up, suddenly even the simplest actions like getting up and walking around were impossible. I felt very proud of myself for that, for actually having the fortitude and self-discipline to last even this long. I had done something about my situation. I had _gone to the bathroom._

Nobody was going to make a movie out of this when I was done.

I was still smiling as I passed the mirror.

Yeah. _Definitely _early thirties. And I was much fitter than I thought I was, now that I got to look at myself. Lithe muscles showed under my shirt, but my eyes were rather droopy.

I noticed that I had a very cute nose for a lynx.

I would have looked a little longer, but my headache came back to haunt me, pushing me onward with thumps of pain with each step.

Instead of going right like I had when following Wade to that explosive hallway, I went left from the detention center. I walked, helmet on my head and PDA in paw.

Time was still a clumsy peat bog to me, so I'm not sure for how long, but I did walk. Another rumble punctuated the monotony as I followed the map, given a handy line of direction. I didn't have to criss-cross other hallways that much, and the main hallway I was in led right to it.

About halfway there I saw something that _really _freaked me out.

--

A/N: "You have found a **candy bar.** Do you wish to eat the **candy bar? **You have found a **rifle battery**..."

I hope I didn't give too much away in this chapter. Name and gender remain hidden, so I think it's all good.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't so much that it was another body so much as the way he had died.

The poor lizard's face had been left with a nasty, stomach churning gash over one side, exposing the flesh and bone beneath, which had been flayed into an unrecognizable mess. His body seemed to be riddled with laser burns. Blood had pooled all into the hallway, leaving a stench that burned my nose with that age old instinctive fire; no matter where you were or how strong you got, the smell of death never failed to upset and alarm.

I almost vomited right there, at the stench of the blood and the inner juices that had slowly oozed out, but I didn't have anything to bring up except the candy bar I had eaten earlier. I stood where I was, frozen in the middle of the hallway, staring at someone who would never get up and never move, yet as I looked into those dead fish eyes, I had the ominous creeping feeling that he would get up as a zombie and start talking.

And yet, in the back of my mind, I knew something now. The thought crept up like a worm through the back of my neck and into my conscious thoughts as I was standing there ruminating to drive off the terror gripping my heart. I licked my dry lips. There was no mistaking the way this lizard had died. He had not been the victim of some miscellaneous exploding pipe or a long fall down a faulty elevator shaft. He had wounds inflicted by something with purpose. Something had _wanted _him dead. People weren't just dying on this station.

They were being _killed _by it.

Someone, some _thing _in this place was moving about, killing people in gruesome ways that nobody, really, deserved.

_Suspicions of incompetence and sabotage are baseless…_

I kind of lost it and started retching. I don't remember how long I was there, cursing my bad luck and trying to fight down my panic, but getting myself back together didn't take too long.

I finally shook myself out of my reverie. If I didn't want to end up like that guy, I had to move, fast. I ran down a list of objectives, staring at the map on my PDA. Find Wade, find a ship, and get the hell out of here. Preferably never come back, no matter how much I wanted to find out why I was here in the first place. I put the PDA back into a pocket and hurried onward, gingerly stepping over the blood spatters. The lizard had been a technician or a scientist, and didn't have anything useful that I could see. Besides, I wasn't about to just start rooting around in the middle of the guy's guts. Just to be sure, I made a precursory check of the surrounding hallway. Nothing. Not even a gun. The lizard had died without even the hope of defending himself.

The map on the PDA showed I was very near the tram. The hallway contained no leaping horrors or psychotic murderers, much as I thought it would. Still, moving slowly through the bland, half-lit hallways, with that incessant groaning and shaking under my feet, I couldn't help but ponder if it would be better for something terrible to happen. Fear was something that was supposed to tense me up, get me ready for anything. But when nothing happened, all I got was a fraying of my already frazzled nerves. Even worse, each step I took _echoed _just slightly.

_Stop it!_

This was ridiculous. The station was still well lit and I could hear anything that would try to sneak up on me. I was a lynx, for crying out loud! I had much better senses than any lizard or primate, or even basset hound. And I had my helmet. I was somewhat protected.

Somewhat.

It was weird how fear gripped a person, or rather me personally. I found it more detrimental than anything else.

If fear was supposed to make me ready for anything, why did I just want to wet my pants right now? The faces of Carmichael and the lizard haunted me, no matter how much I tried to push them to the back of my mind. I wanted to think of something else and maybe feel better… but I didn't have any memories to call on. All I knew was that I was a thirty-something lynx wandering in a potential death trap with monsters and murderers running around. Except for Wade.

Stricken of his company, I suddenly found myself longing for his presence. Just someone else who was alive, really. I had never figured myself to be the social type given that I was in a place like this, but some company was something I longed for even more than food and water.

Why was it that other living beings always seemed so important? I supposed that they sparked in us what made us bad or good. They made you want to _do_ things, let you know that there was a world out there you could impact and make a real difference in. They expanded your horizons beyond the little pleasures. Other people were like a whole new world to explore. They let you know that there was help, someone who could come find you if you were down in a pit, figurative or otherwise. Someone who could rescue you, or be rescued.

I knew all this because I had no memories of anyone other than Wade. My mind was a big dark hole that lifted up an instinctive feeling of emptiness and loneliness in me. This violent and silent world was all I knew right now. Somehow that thought made me even more depressed and despondent than anything else that had happened. My head started hurting again when I tried to remember anything substantial, beyond maybe a movie I had watched, or the taste of coffee.

To distract myself from the whispering shadows, I wondered what exactly was causing all the stress on the space station. Was it in some kind of decaying orbit? Was it rotating too fast? The explosion that had separated me from Wade suggested that it was likely that accusations of incompetence or sabotage were _entirely _in line and grounded in reality. I wondered how much time was left for this place.

_Perfect, _I thought, _nothing like a little time attack to make things interesting._

I was in front of the tram station.

It had the appearance of a lobby; a very open circular area with my entrance at one end and the tram station at the other. Several public benches and what looked like a security desk accompanied by a couple computer terminals for public use (both of them were offline) were scattered near the station. To the sides were what seemed to be a couple eating areas, probably where workers went to relax when they had a few minutes off or to wait for the trams. The concession stands, where I thought to have found bored and underpaid guys in schlocky uniforms, were empty and devoid of workers. The magazine racks were empty, which was bad, because I could have gotten some info on the outside world through them.

I did raid the concession stand for something to eat, though. The bread I found was stale and none of the meat was good to eat, and most of the vegetables were withering, but I did find some fruit juice and snack foods that slaked my hunger and thirst for the time being. The kitchens had some bottled water, which I and my parched throat were thankful for. The food and drink gave me new energy and a greater will to keep going (surviving is so much more difficult on an empty stomach).

Unfortunately, I had not thought up to now about where was a good place to go on this station. Where had Wade wanted to take me? Where were the people he had been talking to on his radio? Where was _out? _Since the map I had only showed this section, I wasn't sure where the nearest docking bay or available ship was, or even if I would be able to fly it. And this section alone was gigantic. The enormity of this place and the idea that it was full of danger made me feel incredibly small. I was just an ant running around in a colony I had never lived in. But I had a full stomach, a goal, and a helmet. I was ready, I could survive.

I walked up to the tram. Fortunately, it didn't look ready to explode like everything else in this station, nor did it seem like any psychotic murderers were hiding in it. It was rather small for a main transit vehicle, with only three cars, but I supposed that meant people didn't do a whole lot of travel in between different station sections.

The tram was empty, clean, and sterile white in color. I glanced out the windows and saw that the tram was suspended on a large rail in the middle of a large tube, which probably ran around the perimeter of the station until it hit another station. I dropped down heavily on one of the cushioned chairs, enjoying the feel of the plush leather on my aching bottom and back. So long on that cot in my cell had made me wish for something a little more accommodating. And then I waited. I figured it was something automatic, but nothing happened.

"Well, come on," I said, and stood up again. I noticed a little glowing panel next to the door. It had little buttons and directions on it, and I came up to investigate. On the screen a little glowing box read: _Automatic navigation disabled. Please select a destination._

I almost growled. I didn't want to select my own destination, I had no idea where I was supposed to go! I stood back and put a paw on my chin and another on my hip, my tail twitching around behind me. There were a variety of selections: Secondary science bay, hydroponics, auxiliary engineering, third level living quarters… but nothing that told me anything particularly useful. Personally I would have wanted to get communications, or the bridge, or… whatever space stations used to control themselves.

I quickly selected the secondary science bay. The screen flickered and flashed while I held my breath, and then confirmed my selection.

The tram lurched forward.

When I sat down again, I couldn't help but wonder at how the tram was actually working if this place was in such bad shape. Maybe Wade and his mysterious benefactors had overridden some of the security lockdowns that would have been standard in a place like this.

And how did I know what was standard in a place like this? I leaned back into the plush leather seat and let my head thump against the window behind me. I told myself again I didn't remember anything, but that wasn't necessarily true, otherwise I'd have never been able to function. So I had had some kind of life that had something to do with space, since I remembered spaceships, lockdowns, deep space stations. I had known how to get myself some protection, what to scavenge for when I came across bodies and lockers. But everything else was a bit of a blank.

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

"The time is: 7:08 AM. Welcome to the _Arctic _deep space tramway system. Current destination: secondary science bay, main pharmacology and biological sample analysis. Attention, all personnel: construction is ongoing in main prototype test areas, main hanger, secondary hydroponics bay and main decks eight through thirteen. A standing advisement has been issued to avoid these areas until construction is complete."

The ride was mostly uneventful, and the normality of riding the tram became ominous and terrifying due to the lack of other people about. I thought I'd see someone reading through his daily announcements or scientific notes, or chatting with a friend about how boring life in a place like this was. I also reflected on the fact that many of those who would have been leading cheerfully boring lives had suffered terrible deaths. It was surreal, doing something like this in a place of silence and death, not unlike my bathroom adventure not too long ago. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, imagining talking, smiling, scowling faces, _live_ faces. A feeling that I was somehow an intruder here, an interloper on this place's final days, irrevocably settled down on my heart. I bowed my head and settled it on my open palms, as if silently apologizing for my ignorance.

In any case I had gleaned some information about this place's purpose. It was dedicated to research and experimentation, and was known as _Arctic._ It had suffered some kind of disaster in the last week or so, forcing it to be abandoned, and abandoned in a hurry, leaving several of the personnel to fend for themselves. Those who had been left behind were dead, dying, or attempting to avoid the aforementioned fates. The station was probably falling apart due to most of the infrastructure not being finished. And whatever was tearing this place apart was keeping away rescue teams, or somebody on the outside had decided that it simply wasn't worth the effort.

How true was that really, though? Was some rescue being organized even as I sat here and thought? If that was the case, why had Wade been in such a hurry? Why hadn't everyone just hunkered down? How deep in space were we if it took over a week to organize a rescue effort for such a large and expensive facility?

I looked ahead out the tram's front window. Outside I could see the tunnel I was in opening up into an exponentially larger area. The rail, which was contained in its own tube of clear material that ensconced the tram, probably a compound of heavy-duty plastics, hugged the right wall of the tunnel to provide support. But the wall to the left was about to simply drop away. But it didn't just move on into a larger area... it seemed to be made of different material, black, spotted with whites and blues and yellows. Very odd for a space station to look like...

Outer space! The black was the void, the dots all stars and other heavenly bodies. It was a giant, panoramic view that stretched on for a good way down the length of the station. I saw several pillars of metal arching up over the grand display and understood that they were the supports for a massive window to the outside. It was probably only natural. People would want to see something other than blank walls every once in a while and remind themselves that there was still a galaxy outside.

But none of this properly described the sudden shock that came with this discovery. I myself, who had been suffering from claustrophobia and a bit of hysteria as to whether or not I'd see the outside, stood up and headed for the front of the tram, pressing my eager face to the window to get a better look. Ah, I thought to myself, no wonder people enjoyed working in space. The feeling I got was incredible, staring into the endless, monstrously huge expanse. I was a tiny, flitting, and ignorant being staring into the maw of the great unknown, a wondrous and exciting frontier that was just waiting to be explored and hunted. I stood there, speechless, as the view expanded while the tram moved alongside the nigh-indestructible panes. This was something that nobody could ever fully figure out, or was probably meant to, yet it beckoned all the same to anyone who could lift their head and wonder about something bigger and better beyond themselves.

It was almost like outer space had some kind of attention complex. It was big. Really big. So big it almost seemed, from all those dazzling pinpricks of light and unknowable, vast expanses of sheer emptiness, like it was reaching out to sentient beings and jumping up and down, shouting "Look at me! I'm _big!"_

Then something else caught my attention. It was another celestial object, but it wasn't bright or beautiful. It was big, close, and ugly.

It was an asteroid. Many more soon filled my vision. This whole station was built on the outskirts of an asteroid field! How many of those were in Lylat? I wracked my brain for answers. Perhaps they had something to do with the-

A giant red eye filled my vision.

"Holy _shit!"_

I scrambled away from the window as fast as I could, blinking from the momentary blindness I was suffering after that flash of light directly into my eyeballs. In my haste I collapsed onto my tail, making me grunt with pain, but I continued an awkward crab-like crawl to the rear of the car, anything to get away from that terrible, all-seeing eye! It glared at me with the mechanic contempt that an exterminator might notice his prey with, following my vain attempts at escape with cool, confident precision. I hit the rear of my car and backed up against it on my bottom, my breath coming to me in heaves as I discerned the true nature of my foe outside the tram.

The floating red eye wasn't a real, biological eye, I could realize in the back of my mind through the gibbering terror it was experiencing, but the optic lens of a robot. A flying robot, I thought at first, as it was hovering in the empty space next to the tram tunnel with powerful jet engines on the bottom and back of its chassis, and an ugly thing it was. It had to have been some kind of heavy security bot, designed to take down only the most heavily armed threats to the station, as its thick, ovular body was encased in lustrous armor the likes of which one would expect on a tank. A quintet of jointed legs extended from the body and ended in grasping claws, and two long spider arms also jutted out, with the distinct, orange glow of active vibro-blades covering nearly half their lengths. On what I would call its shoulders, since they were positioned over the junctures that joined the arms to the body, was a pair of small laser guns that tracked my movements with horrifying accuracy.

At first, I believed myself to be safe. At first, I tried to calm myself, thinking this beast was only programmed to target dangerous threats and armed intruders, of which I was neither. Of course, I was technically an escaped prisoner, but why would such a thing sic its lethal armament on me? And, at first, I believed that whatever it made of my presence, it wouldn't risk damaging the tram just to attack a lone sentient like myself.

But then, to my abject horror, the beast shut its engines off, reached out to the tunnel wall with long, grasping legs, and attached itself to the roof my sanctuary with a vise-like grip, straddling the tunnel on long, spidery limbs with a shuddering thud that resonated throughout my cabin.

I stared up through the blank roof, paralyzed with fear as I pressed against the cold metal of the cabin wall. The cabin lacked an overhead window, and I could only wait with bated breath, trying to spot some trace of my robotic nemesis, but the tram was wide enough that even its girth was hidden from my sight. My mouth was hanging open like a corpse might, and through it I forced ragged, heaving breaths, nearly strangled with a lump of panic in my throat.

_It's a security robot. It has to be,_ I thought to myself. _It's here to keep this place safe. It's not going to attack. It can't. It won't._

It did.

The first hammer blow came from one of its vibro-blade arms as it slashed against the thick covering of the tunnel wall, sending vibrations up and down the tram itself. The plastic compounds held firm against the attack, and the nearly inaudible hum of its vibro-blades turned into a momentary deafening screech as the cutting tools were rudely deflected. The bot made several such crashing pierces against the tunnel, attempting to bash it to pieces if not simply gut the tunnel like a drunken surgeon, and I hid my head against an expected implosion of glass and plastic. I wanted to scream, but no sounds came, just an animal, guttural groan of abject terror. Over the screech of deflected vibro-blade and the whumping thuds of the bot's assault, my keen ears picked up a new, even more hysteria-inducing noise: loud, piercing cracks. With each crash they came, and drove straight into my brain like nails. I chanced a glance outside and witnessed hairline fractures chasing the tram's progress with every blow. The bot's attack was succeeding.

It was getting in. Not only that, it was tearing apart the entire tram tunnel. I looked behind me to see that the tram had passed the bot's first point of attack, but it wasn't moving nearly fast enough to escape when it finally broke through the wall and was able to get inside, and I highly the tram itself was similarly armored to the tunnel it traveled through.

I dove at the control panel and started pushing buttons at random. I had to find manual control, an override, something! Wouldn't the security systems realize what was happening and enact some kind of countermeasure?

I realized with a burst of ironic shock that the security was currently trying to kill me anyway.

More cracks appeared, and then a fracture burst open. The bot squeezed a vibro-blade through and proceeded to slowly carve its way in. The fervent red pinpoint of an eye seemed almost gleeful.

"Shit. _Shit!"_

I pounded more buttons, sweating bullets as I cursed my way to whatever fate these buttons would lead to. Panic began sneaking up in my chest. I wasn't doing anything that would ensure my survival. But what else could I do against that monster?

And then a miracle happened.

"Manual control restored," the little computer said. The screen, which had consisted of flashing lights from my manic button-pressing and a little menu with various dials appeared.

"Please set tramway speed."

I jammed it up to high, expecting a burst of powerful speed.

The tram accelerated from what had been about ten miles per hour to around fifteen. I sighed and looked back in desperation. It wouldn't be enough... the bot knew I was getting away. It ignited the jet boosters and flew several feet up. I couldn't see through the roof of my tram, so I at first thought it had simply given up.

And then a charged laser shot crashed right through the tunnel, bursting the plastic to pieces. An entire section of tram tunnel shattered, melted, and boiled away. The rail was ripped to pieces, and the robot came back to continue the assault, grasping the inner sides and edges of the tunnel with hydraulic powered grips, peering into the tram and locking onto its target. I was about fifty feet away, but that wouldn't do anything to disrupt its aim.

It leveled its laser cannons right at _me._

I ducked down as a hail of laser fire tore into my vehicle. The flimsy walls of the tram cars did practically nothing to shelter me from the hail of plasma, but even as the tram began to melt, collapse, and be blown to little bits, the bot continued its heavy assault.

All I could do was curl up on the floor and scream.

I felt a sudden vibration and the tram skidded sideways with a screech of metal grinding against metal. One of the bot's shots had tore the tram clean off the rail, sending all three cars skidding to a halt against the tunnel wall. The sudden change in velocity lifted me off the floor for a stomach-churning moment. I slid about with my arms flailing, and banged right against the side of the tram car, noting with insecurity the gaping, charred hole one of the lasers had made. It was a miracle I was still alive, but I didn't have time to appreciate my luck. I remained on the floor, silent, listening to the insect-like clicks and chirps of the security bot echoing down the tunnel. I didn't dare move.The bot banged in frustration against the tunnel, trying to literally pry the gap open wider and only succeeding in tearing off a few shards at a time, or at least I judged so by the noises I was hearing.

The bot had paused all movement and noise. It was probably considering its options. I was quite a ways off, and I supposed I was not enough of a high priority target for it to sit there and take pot shots at me until it had torn the entire tram to pieces. I heard its jet boosters ignite once again, and chanced a glance up from under my paws, which I had been hiding my head under in a less-than-stalwart fashion.

The bot was flying alongside the tunnel. Without warning, it raked my passage with laser fire, drilling holes into the tunnel wall and nearly taking off a chunk of my tail. I ducked up against the side of the tram that faced the bot and prayed it didn't depend on heat signatures for aiming. I had never felt so helpless in my life as when I was just a curled up, frightened feline trying to avoid certain death. I almost felt like I was being toyed with; realistically I would be dead by now, right? But I wasn't about to question my good fortune. Nobody wants to get Providence angry.

I looked up as the bot jetted further upwards, to the topside of my tram. I expected another hail of laser blasts, but nothing came.

Seconds suddenly dragged into hours as realization dawned on me.

"_Shit!"_

I jumped up and careened through the wrecked tram cars, heading for the back, dodging over fallen chairs and leaping through unlocked doors. I didn't stop, I didn't slow down to take shelter. I just ran. No matter how far forward I lunged my legs, it didn't seem to carry me far enough away.

_Run. Run. Run._

I had just about cleared the final tram car when the charged laser blast ripped through the tunnel, annihilating the front car and lifting the rest off the ground. I was flung forward with the power of the blast and hurled out into the tram tunnel, landing hard on the railing with my right temple. Even through the padding and protection of my helmet, I could feel the sudden, hard collision which echoed through my head, nearly twisting my neck right in two.

Everything suddenly muted itself. The crashing of the plexiglass, the groan of the rail as it began to bend with the weight of the tunnel, the roar of the jet engines. All of it wasn't there anymore, and I barely registered a dull ache on the side of my head. At least it hadn't triggered another headache.

But everything else slid into a little bit more focus. I looked behind me. The rail hadn't been completely severed by the explosion. It was bending and creaking, bound to break any second, but in the meantime, the entire tunnel was arcing downward, towards the large, curved roof of some kind of veranda that looked out towards the giant windows showing the outside.

Unfortunately, the tram was starting to slide down _with _it, threatening to crush me as it continued to accelerate with the downturn of the tunnel.

Time to run again.

I charged down the tunnel, flailing my arms as the entire passage bent downwards, the environment outside twisting around as the end of the tunnel went down to the veranda below. I was suddenly having trouble keeping my feet on the floor. The lip of the tunnel opening crashed against the building beneath me, finishing off any grip I might have had. The angle was too steep for me to remain standing. With a rush of nausea, I fell onto my tail and yelled something incoherent as I began sliding down the tunnel's length, towards the veranda roof. The entire passage suddenly twisted with its own weight, opening me not to safety on the top of the veranda, but aiming me straight towards the edge!

I clawed desperately at the unyielding plastic, looking up to see the remains of the tram rushing down towards me. I didn't have time to think, I just _knew _that there was only one way to survive, and if I didn't make it, I'd either get pulverized by tons of flying metal, or careen off the veranda and break all my bones in the ensuing fall. I looked down at the metal surface below, with me screaming towards it and certain doom from a long fall. There was just enough space left for me to slide along and try to grab the edge. I could break all my fingers, snap all my claws, dislocate something, or miss entirely. But I had to try.

I was out in open air, gliding smoothly onto the metal of the veranda roof. I twisted onto my stomach, and threw my arms forward, grasping for the edge, seeking any kind of purchase.

It didn't come.

My legs went first. Then I felt my stomach give way. And then the rest of me.

I was falling. It felt surprisingly peaceful, given that I was about to die. A shower of broken glass and plastics rained down after me, glinting in the light of ten thousand stars. Everything seemed to slow down as shock and resignation enveloped my brain. Life paused for a fraction of a second. A cascade of raindrops, tears, and snowflakes accompanied me into open space, frozen in time.

They were beautiful.

--

"_Dad, look at how high I'm swinging!"_

"_That's great, son!"_

"_Dad, I bet I can jump off farther than you!"_

_There was sand on the ground. It was safe._

"_You think so? Let's try it! Spread your arms, son, it'll feel like flying!"_

"_I'm gonna fly just like you one day, dad."_

--

Very abruptly, my body finally decided my brain wasn't thinking fast enough. I threw my arms forward as far as they would go, and for an instant, it was like I was flying… except, in reverse, because I was falling, and why was I even bothering to notice this? The fingers on both my hands brushed against something, and gripped. _Hard. _My claws dug in for additional support. Cats, I've been told, always had a knack for coming safe out of falls. I supposed it was fortunate that for this particular disaster, I should be feline.

I didn't even know what I had grabbed. But my inertia nearly yanked my arms out of their sockets, and sent my body flying up and into something tough and unyielding, driving the wind from my lungs. I was working in survival mode now. I didn't see or really think about anything. I just heard the crash of the tram car finally exiting the tunnel and trailing me into the abyss. I knew I had to scoot away, towards the wall next to me.

The next thing I knew, my fur was being brushed and my teeth rattled by the slipstream of the falling wreckage.

The tram cars went sailing out into oblivion. I heard the crash not too long after that.

I pulled myself onto the ledge I had snagged, and was immediately hit by a face full of something soft and bushy. I sputtered and stood up.

_What the…_

My savior had been a decorative plant ledge. Somebody had actually thought to plant a few small bushes and trees in large metal outcroppings jutting out under the veranda. My life had been saved by a random house modeler.

I would have laughed then and there, if I hadn't seen the bot coming down to make sure of its kill. I grabbed onto the edge of the verandah and quickly hauled myself up, grabbed onto the railing surrounding the veranda's edge, and threw myself inside. I didn't stop to look at the surroundings, which had nothing but some places to sit. Once again, I was operating under survival instinct only, which told me to get under cover. The bot must have thought I had fallen with the tram cars, because it just lazily floated by on its way down to inspect the wreckage.

I hoped the rest of the tunnel collapsed and fell on that damn thing.

The vernada was just that, I noticed as I raced down its edge. Just a little porch for people to come and relax or walk along in their off hours. I didn't have any such luxury. I ran up to the first unlocked door I came to and threw myself into it. There were no sounds of pursuit as I entered a slender, brightly lit hallway, but I kept running anyway.

I supposed the giddiness was getting to me. My head was starting to throb again, but I didn't care. The adrenaline, the excitement, the sheer _unlikeliness _of my survival got me going. Where others had failed, had died, had given up, I was still alive. Twice now I had beaten incredible odds, just by getting out and moving around and trying to figure things out, and now, now! Through surviving a train wreck that only guys in old war stories were supposed to live through… mostly through luck, but still. The virtue of the fact that I was alive was enough for me. I wasn't here to prove anything, just survive, and I had done that in spades. I barked out a cry of defiance against this station and all its deadly trappings and charged headlong down the corridor, jumping once and skidding to a halt as I turned the corner. I was laughing. _Laughing._ After that experience, just being alive made me feel a euphoria that I was sure I had never experienced before, memory loss or no. I moved and flexed my shoulders. They ached, but they were still operable. Another blessing. I had the feeling I just might get out of here in one piece.

I leaned against the wall and sighed, letting my high out through my lungs. Now there was more to consider. I needed to get another map. I needed weapons. I needed to find Wade and his mysterious helper. Another rumble brought me to my senses. I hadn't found any place yet that had suffered serious damage, but it was obvious that this place was really starting to come apart.

I looked down at my arms and torso and legs, checking myself for damage. I was covered in cuts and bruises from my fall, but somehow the helmet had remained on my head. Some of those cuts were worse than others, and stung terribly. I gulped as I saw pieces of glass in some of them.

Survive. Get out. Then get answers.

I stood up and came face to face with a little robot. Well, technically. The little square-ish beastie was only about a foot high, perhaps two feet wide, and on legs that ended in small wheels, but it was still quite a shock considering what I had just been through.

"Gah!" I shouted, and pulled back, instantly reminded of the bot's larger cousin that had nearly taken my life.

The bot followed me inch for inch, but didn't attack. Instead, it started doing something. I squinted at the tiny contraption as it spun in place and revved its motors, jerking back and forth, as if to indicate the hallway behind it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was trying to dance.

"Dancing killer robots," I muttered to myself. "This place gets weirder and weirder."

It had some tools jutting out from the top of its chassis, which jabbed and whirled and whined mechanically. It wanted my attention. Was this thing actually conscious and aware of my presence?

It drove a ways down the hall, and then returned to me. I knelt down and peered at it.

In the middle of all the tools which jived and shimmied (perhaps meaning this was a maintenance bot of some kind), there was a camera. A little camera lens that dilated and contracted in a manner eerily similar to a living eye. But it wasn't glowing red.

"Can you see me?" I asked it.

The bot raised itself up on its wheeled legs, coming to the height my waist, and then bobbed up and down. It was _nodding._

"Is someone controlling you?"

Another nod. I felt a sudden chill run down my spine. Somebody could see me through that little camera, they were controlling the robot! I wasn't alone again! I didn't know why, but I felt apprehensive. This person was a stranger. Somebody who might lead me to my death. But that was ridiculous. If they were on this station, controlling this robot, they were in the same pickle as me. We needed each other, apparently.

"Hey… hey. Do you know a guy named Wade?" I asked the robot. It shuddered and then made its little imitation of a nod again.

"Wow," I said in amazement. "Are there others besides you and him?"

The robot shook back and forth, but seemed to shudder while doing it. I judged that to mean 'more than likely no.'

So. Three survivors against a space station on the verge of collapse and a defense system going haywire. I liked to think I'd been up against worse odds. But of course I couldn't remember any such time.

Another distant rumble, and the lights flickered. That meant the damage was closer and worse than before. I bit my bottom lip and turned back to the maintenance bot.

"Why can't you talk to me?"

It shuddered and ran into the wall. At first I was perplexed, but I believed that meant some kind of damage had befallen this robot and destroyed its ability to communicate. Or perhaps it just wasn't meant for that kind of thing, since it was never going to run into anyone to talk to, but the officer controlling it would need to hear things around it nonetheless. I pointed down at the various slashes and bloody cuts in my clothing. I didn't fancy running around in this state.

"I need to get patched up. Is there a medical facility nearby?"

Without answer, the robot turned around and wheeled off down the hall. Slightly indignant, I followed it with no small amount of hesitation. Hopefully, this wasn't a trap. But I didn't have any other choice. At least progress was being made. I was going somewhere and gotten back into contact with my mysterious benefactor, who was likely to be someone who knew what was going on.

Even after everything I'd been through in the last six hours, I knew things could have been worse.

--

A/N: Whoo! Sorry this took so long, but I wanted to be sure I got a good chapter out. Hope you loyal readers reading this are still interested, and I hope the mystery is still enthralling. Are the memories the protagonist sees his/her own? Are they the child from the first or second memory, the father, the mother? Is this a male or female? Does that matter? What's with this crazy place? And who's the mysterious benefactor? How does it all relate to Star Fox canon? Why am I asking you all this when I should be writing?

I like writing this, you know. This everyman caught up in an extraordinary situation, surviving on nothing but some luck and some quick thinking.


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